What you are, what I am not, the litany
Of doubts and whispers and steep, slick slopes
Packed with what I tell myself I cannot earn.
What if you are real? What if I am not? What if
You were only meant to touch me, not love me,
Or love me but not hear me? And how would I know?
You in your sureness, in your right ways and right times,
You lack nothing, nothing I can give you.
I know intimately this pool of melting light,
sliding across a white bedroom wall,
The afternoons daylight slipped in to witness
Obedience from my mouth, obeisance from my hands.
Am I wilder than this? Or is the chaos just escape?
What will happen when you see me clearly? And worse,
What will happen if I see you, and cannot help
But love you for what you are?